


Equilibrium

by Bullfinch



Series: Sublimation [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: (by 2-3 decades), Early Overwatch, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 07:29:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8436787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bullfinch/pseuds/Bullfinch
Summary: Early Overwatch days. Gabriel gets a temporary assignment to a decommissioned base with Jack, Ana, and her eight-year-old daughter Fareeha. What should have been a relaxing vacation turns into a nightmare.





	

**Author's Note:**

> First in a series about Gabriel Reyes.

Gabriel plummets through the air in free fall.

Only for a couple of seconds before the elastic cord starts to take his weight, the rappelling harness pulling tight around his pelvis. The cord stretches and stretches, and he watches the metal floor rise up to meet him, gets ready to plant his feet just in case—but a couple of yards above the floor his downward trajectory slows to a stop and then reverses direction. Gabriel looks back up at the catwalk, where Jack and Fareeha stand waiting, and he flashes them a thumbs-up with the hand not clutching the fifty-pound weight. “Looks good!”

Above him Jack returns the thumbs-up and flips on the crane head that juts from the scaffold beside him. Fareeha jumps up and down, clapping her hands.

A light, warm breeze blows in through the wide-open door of the hangar as Gabriel starts to rise. The trees outside rustle gently, flush with leaves in the bright green of late summer. Gabriel relaxes, enjoying the pristine weather as the crane pulls him steadily higher. Whatever strings Ana pulled to get them this assignment, he’s glad he’s friends with her. The decommission crew won’t get out to Finland for at least another few days, and babysitting a base isn’t as exciting as capturing terrorists or interrupting arms deals but he’s not about to complain that he gets to spend what amounts to a vacation hanging out with Ana and Fareeha.

And Jack.

Gabriel comes to a stop beside the catwalk. Jack reaches out to pull him in—stronger than he looks, and he grins. “How was it?”

That grin goes straight to Gabriel’s core like it always does, and he returns it. “Pretty great for something we threw together this morning.” The crane and the cords are good for transporting and maintaining aircraft, of course, but they’re also good for bungee jumping. He hefts the fifty-pound weight and sets it down. When he rises again Jack is staring at his arms but looks away quickly, a soft smile still on his face. “Well then, let’s get Fareeha rigged up, how ‘bout it?”

That’s the only problem with spending time off together—the closeness starts to ache just a little, especially in a place like this. Gabriel feels like they should be lying in the grass beneath the trees with dappled light fluttering over them, talking or dozing or a little of both. Which they’ve done before, it’s true, but Gabriel also feels like they should be holding hands, which he _knows_ Jack wants too. But it’s a line that they seem to have decided, in a mutual, silent way, not to cross. With their positions at Overwatch there would be raised eyebrows, questions of nepotism. And Overwatch is too important to both of them.

“Kneel down.” Fareeha tugs on Gabriel’s pant leg. “I can’t reach.”

So Gabriel kneels and clips her harness securely to his own. She tries to help, but her gloves are far too big for her eight-year-old hands, and the fingers fold and get caught in the carabiners; he separates them patiently.

She tugs at the straps when he’s finished. “Okay, it’s good! Let’s go!”

Jack spools the crane head out to the length they just tested while Gabriel picks up Fareeha. About fifty pounds by now—he remembers when she was half that size, shy and wide-eyed for weeks until she finally gave him an anxious smile. Now she’s much bolder, and her tiny arms wrap around his neck, her legs around his waist. He keeps one hand pressed to her back and grasps the cord with the other. “You ready?”

She wriggles in his arm. “Go, go, go!”

Jack waves them off. “Have fun, you two.”

Gabriel returns the wave and steps off the catwalk.

Fareeha screams in his ear as they fall, which is very loud but he doesn’t mind. As the cord takes their weight the scream turns into a giggle, bubbling out of her uncontrolled. Gabriel, keeping a firm grip on the cord so it doesn’t squash her, finds himself laughing too. Then they bounce back up, sending his stomach plummeting from his throat all the way down to his toes. After a few more short bounces they come to a stop, swinging slightly in midair.

“How was it?” Jack calls down.

“Do it again, do it again!” Fareeha yells.

Jack hits the crane switch and the motor buzzes, hauling the two of them up—

“GABRIEL!”

Whoops. They left Ana napping on the grass but she seems to be awake, striding into the hangar with her hair mussed. “What are you _doing_ with my daughter?!”

Shit. The crane reverses direction, and to his left Gabriel sees Jack clambering down the ladder. “It’s fine, Mama!” Fareeha calls. “We were just playing!”

 _“Playing?_ What if you’d fallen? That must be a hundred feet—“

“We tested it!” Jack hastens to add as he descends. “Gabe went down first with a weight so we could get the right length. And look, she’s harnessed up and clipped in. She wasn’t in danger.”

Gabriel sets his feet down on the floor, disconnects himself from the cord as it continues to spool down. Fareeha is still wrapped around him. Ana stalks over, eyeing him. “You used a weight?”

“Yeah. Fifty pounds.” He jerks his head up at the catwalk. “It’s still up there if you want proof.”

“Don’t yell at them, Mama,” Fareeha says. “I asked them to do it. I’m sorry.”

Ana chews her lip, thinking. “Were you holding the cord when you went down?”

“Yeah,” Gabriel replies. “She’s in long sleeves and pants too so she wouldn’t get chafed.”

Jack approaches as Ana considers Gabriel for another long moment; then she lets out a pained sigh. “Fine. Just be safe. Please.”

“Thanks, Mama!” Fareeha rotates and opens her arms, trying to hug her mother; but she’s still clipped tightly to Gabriel’s harness, and he steps in so she can get her arms around Ana’s shoulders.

Then Gabriel has a thought. “Hey, Ana, you want to give it a try? It’s pretty fun.”

Ana says nothing, but when one dark eyebrow quirks up Gabriel knows he’s got her.

A little over an hour later and he’s passing out beers in the galley, Fareeha with abottle of ginger ale clasped in her hands. Gabriel thought she might get an upset stomach with all the yo-yoing up and down but she professes to be perfectly fine. Meanwhile Jack had to beg out after only a few jumps, but he accepts the beer, clinking it against Gabriel’s.

“Can we do it from the top of the building tomorrow?” Fareeha asks.

 _“No,”_ Ana replies sharply.

Gabriel sits down beside Jack (he smells good, like lemongrass). “How was your nap?”

“Quite nice.” Ana takes a sip from her bottle. “You know, earlier I was walking and I found a little clearing with the loveliest wildflowers. You two should pay it a visit.”

Gabriel looks over at Jack, which is a mistake because Jack’s looking back and the message they try so hard to ignore passes silently between them once again— _I want that, I want you, I want us together._ Ana knows, could not fail to know with how much time they all spend with each other. She usually leaves it be, although she may be piqued today by the unannounced bungee jumping. (She alone seems to think it’s a good idea but has not expressed that in years, ever since Gabriel firmly asked her not to.)

His eyes flick down to the table. “Yeah, maybe.”

The alarm sounds.

A loud, annoying blare that makes Fareeha jump in her seat. Gabriel’s hand darts out and catches her drink before it can spill. Jack is already on his feet, heading out of the kitchen; Gabriel follows, Ana behind with Fareeha’s hand in her own.

The base is supposed to be secret, first of all. And second, most of the hardware has been shipped out already. There’s some information left on the servers, yes. But the base is supposed to be secret.

The security hub looks out across the hangar, their bungee cord still dangling from the crane. Jack has his back to it, staring instead at the bank of screens on the rear wall. Apparently the base isn’t so secret. Not to the convoy of ATVs powering through the forest, manned by soldiers in full combat gear. Gabriel knows those uniforms.

Talon.

“Damn it,” Jack murmurs. Ana has pulled Fareeha in close to her, pressed against her leg.

“We gotta go,” Gabriel says, watching the ATVs roll past on the screen. “Alert Overwatch and we’ll run. There’s way too many of them. No way we can hold this place.”

Jack rubs his forehead. “We still have a job to do. We were assigned here for a reason.”

Fuck. He’s right, of course, much as Gabriel would simply like to get out of here as quick as possible; they’re supposed to protect Overwatch’s data while the place is vulnerable. It’s not trivial, either. If the information here fell into the wrong hands…

Yes. People could die. Goddamnit all.

“Mama, what’s going on?” Fareeha whispers.

That’s the other problem. They can’t put Fareeha in danger. Can’t. She’s only eight. Gabriel reaches out unconsciously, smoothing her hair.

“I’ll stay.” That’s Jack, already typing, sealing off the doors inside the hangar. “You three head up to the landing pad, take the heli. If I don’t get back in time—“

“You’re not fucking doing this alone, Jack. Jesus.” Gabriel grimaces a little. Jack’s boldness serves him well at times but it can tip over into foolishness in the wrong situation, as here. “I’ll stay with you and cover your back. Ana, get Fareeha to the heli.”

But Ana is staring down at her daughter with a muted fear. “Gabriel,” she whispers. “I would need to stay close to her, and—I think—I think if you—“

Because she’s used to killing from afar, whereas Gabriel is the best of them in close range; even Jack can rarely beat him hand-to-hand after the years they’ve sparred together. No time to argue the point. “Yeah, okay,” he says, and holds his hand out. “Come on, Fareeha, let’s go.”

“Mama, are you going to meet us?” she asks, taking Gabriel’s hand but not relinquishing her mother’s.

“Yes, of course I will.” Ana kneels and kisses Fareeha’s forehead, hugging her fiercely.

Jack has started working already, erasing the first partition. There will be several to go through. His gaze is drawn up to the camera feeds as if by a magnet. A couple of stragglers roar past.

Gabriel scoops up Fareeha in his arms. “Stay safe, you two, all right? Just—be careful.”

Ana gives him only the briefest of nods before she goes to work at a second station. But Jack looks up and their eyes lock, and Gabriel finds himself thinking _this could be it, this could be the last time._

No. They’re going to be all right. He tells himself that firmly and turns to go.

The armory is just next door, stripped bare of all but the essentials. He stops for a pistol and a bulletproof vest and then moves on, Fareeha’s arms around his neck like they were only an hour ago on the bungee cord. The closest elevator is in the hangar so he jogs down the stairs, enters the enormous space.

A faint buzzing riding on the warm breeze through the wide-open doors. The ATVs. Shit. They’re almost here. Gabriel presses the elevator button. It’s already there, thank fuck, and he slips inside.

Silence as the door slides shut. The elevator rises. He takes in a long breath and lets it out, does it again. Everything will be all right. Fareeha is quiet, her feet dangling.

A shuddering _boom_ from above. Gabriel shuts his eyes.

A second later Jack’s voice comes through his comm, backed by an electronic whine. “Gabe! What was that, are you okay?”

Gabriel raises his wrist. “We’re okay, I don’t know what that was—“

The electronic whine cuts out, replaced by static. Fuck. “Jack? Jack!”

Only a thin crackling noise. “Jammed,” he mutters to himself.

“What happened?” Fareeha whispers.

“They’ve stopped us from being able to talk to each other,” he explains. Hopes Jack got the SOS out to Overwatch before Talon killed the signal.

The elevator slows and there’s a serene _ding_ as it comes to a stop, the doors gliding open. Gabriel flattens himself against the wall on instinct and peers out.

The heli is still there on the rooftop, but the rotor is in pieces, the blades lying broken and scattered around it. Gabriel stabs a button on the elevator and stays where he is until the door closes again. Explosives delivered by drone, he’d bet. He dearly hopes the drone wasn’t still there to spot them.

“What are we going to do now?” Fareeha ask quietly.

That’s a very good question. They need another vehicle, but first he has to get to Jack and Ana, communicate with them that the heli’s busted. “It’s okay.” He kisses Fareeha’s hair. “We’re gonna go get Jack and your mom.”

The doors open again. Third floor, right in front of a panel of plexiglass that overlooks the hangar. Gabriel crouches, peering down to assess the situation.

The hangar is full of soldiers. Fuck, that’s a lot. Close to two dozen. All around the walls the heavy steel doors that lead to the rest of the base are sealed shut, and Gabriel knows the tinted windows of the security hub are damn near impenetrable. He stares at the dark tinted plastic, trying to figure out just how they’re escaping without a heli. But he can think about that later, once they’re all together again.

The soldiers retreat back to the hangar entrance, minus a pair of them who wheel forward a small trailer. Two squat missiles jut from the front. Gabriel is wondering what the hell they’re planning to use those on when one of the missiles shoots from the trailer, flies across the hangar, and blows up the security hub.

The explosion is contained by the remaining intact panels of plexiglass, but flames gush from the smashed opening, and Gabriel hears it even from here, a muffled _boom_ that shakes the floor under his feet. He hurls himself around a corner, back thudding into the wall, curling his body protectively around Fareeha. She squeezes his neck, face buried in his shoulder. He holds her tightly. The information ratchets down in his head, too heavy to be ignored.

_They blew up the security hub. Jack and Ana were in there._

Gabriel saw the explosion. It was a missile. The whole room will be destroyed, and probably adjacent rooms, despite how well the base was built.

 _Jack and Ana were in there._ They might not have been. But they were, because they love Overwatch, they would have stayed to erase the data.

_Jack and Ana—_

“Uncle Gabe?” Fareeha whispers. “Was Mama still in there?”

“We have to go,” Gabriel hears himself saying, struggling to his feet. “It’ll be okay.”

He goes down the hall on autopilot, a half-formed plan swimming together hazily on the surface of his mind. “But was she in there?” Fareeha asks. “Was Mama in there?”

There’s an outside exit on the north side of the base. They’ll be fleeing on foot, but the ATVs are too loud and all the other leftover vehicles are in the hangar. Gabriel finds a stairwell, punches in the code to unlock the door, and slips inside.

“Uncle Gabe,” Fareeha whispers insistently, tugging at the back of the bulletproof vest. “Was Mama in there?”

 _Yes,_ he thinks. _And Jack. They both were._ He doesn’t tell her that. Can’t bring himself to say the words. Maybe later he’ll be able to think about it. But now they have to escape. Alone. Down the stairs, keeping his ears open for other footsteps. Fareeha is small and warm in his arms. The second-floor landing, and he keeps going, onto the final flight—

A hiss and a sharp _bang,_ the tearing of metal. Gabriel spins and starts climbing again as he hears the first-floor door get shoved open. Impossible to hide the sound of his footsteps, so he draws his pistol with one hand. Voices from below, speaking in what sounds like Finnish. Local branch then. Then boots pounding up the stairwell. Shit. He sticks his hand over the railing and fires blindly down. Shouting that he can’t interpret, so he just runs, keeping close to the wall. The sharp _crack_ of rifle fire, bullets whizzing past.

What is he doing? There’s nowhere to go. The security lockdown means he’ll have to punch in a code and wait for the door to open to escape the stairwell, and the soldiers are barely a flight below him. He puts down some more cover fire, hoping to open the gap. The shots are nearly deafening in the enclosed space. Fareeha makes a small, frightened noise into his shoulder.

A glimmer of silver past the railing next to him. With a surge of effort he heaves himself up onto the landing so the flashbang doesn’t send him tumbling down the stairs—

—but the detonation hurls him into the wall, and he turns his back to protect Fareeha from the impact. There’s a shrill ringing in this ears. Can’t keep doing this. It’s too dangerous. “Don’t shoot!” he shouts, though he can barely hear himself. “I surrender!” It occurs to him they may not understand English, so he tosses his pistol down the stairs.

Fareeha is clinging to him harder than ever but he lets her go, setting her on the landing. “Just stay behind me,” he murmurs. Her eyes brim with tears. “You have to be brave, okay?”

Then he turns, still kneeling to shield her, his hands raised. Two soldiers appear on the next landing, shouting, rifles up. But they stop and glance at each other, faces creasing in confusion. Gabriel doubts they were expecting an eight-year-old girl.

They could shoot him right now, him and Fareeha both. But he hopes they’re still human beings under those Talon uniforms, with the smallest shred of decency. Or at the very least pragmatism. Hostages are more valuable alive than dead.

One of them pulls out a short-wave radio (smart—gets under the jammer) and speaks into it. Gabriel holds his breath. A crackling response. The man stows the radio and motions with his rifle, barking at Gabriel.

He gets the idea and rises, feels a tug on his vest. That’s Fareeha, clutching one of the dangling straps with both hands.

They pat him down and, finding no weapons, march him to the hangar, passing through two blasted-open doors. Gabriel keeps his hands up, fearful of retaliation and for Fareeha’s safety. The hangar is emptier now, the raiding party likely spread out to pillage what they can. One of his captors calls out a name: _“Korhonen!”_

A soldier with white-blonde hair straightens from where he stands slouched against an ATV. There’s an extra stripe on his shoulders. He must be in command of the op, and he strolls over, rifle dangling from its strap. “So,” he says, in accented English. “You must be one of Overwatch’s guard dogs.” His eyes are blue, but not like Jack’s, paler and colder. “Did you call for your masters? Should we expect an interruption?”

Fuck. Gabriel gives the only answer he can. “I don’t know. I wasn’t in the hub.”

Korhonen’s eyes narrow. “So did your friends send word?”

Gabriel steels himself. “I don’t know. We separated early.”

The rifle butt smashes into his cheekbone and he stumbles but does not fall, feels the burn in his cheek of split skin. Fareeha immediately bursts into tears. Korhonen’s face creases in annoyance. “Shut up, girl. I don’t want to hear your sniveling.”

She sobs louder, scrubbing at her eyes. Gabriel is afraid to lower his hands to console her. “Fareeha,” he tries. “Fareeha, I’m fine, it’s okay.”

A shriek as one of the soldiers grabs her hair and starts to drag her away from Gabriel. She struggles against him, grasping at his hand. Fear seizes Gabriel’s gut, and he takes a stuttered step toward her, then stops. “Please let her stay with me,” he begs, desperate. “I can calm her down, she won’t bother you anymore. Please.”

Korhonen considers a moment, then nods at his subordinate. The man releases Fareeha and she runs back to Gabriel, clinging to him, crying into his side. He lowers one hand to smooth her hair.

“Tell me, black man,” the commander says, “how many of your friends are stationed here with you?”

There’s no use lying, not when it risks punishment. “Just three of us,” he answers. “Me and two others. I left them both in the hub.”

A grin. “So you’re the only one left then. Good.”

Fareeha lets out something between a scream and a wail, muffled by his vest. Gabriel pets her hair but can’t hold her, not yet, not until they allow it. The man jerks his head. “Sit down against the wall and don’t move. I may have more questions for you.”

Then he walks away. One of the soldiers lifts his rifle butt and Gabriel can only watch it come in, this time bashing into his forehead and slicing open his eyebrow. Warm blood cascades down over his eye. A barked order he doesn’t understand, but he shuffles to the wall with Fareeha’s arms still wrapped around him and carefully kneels. She relinquishes him long enough to let him sit; then he pulls her in to him.

She sits on his leg and hugs his neck again and buries her face in his vest, sobbing into his shoulder. It’s muffled, at least, and Korhonen doesn’t seem to be bothered from where he leans up against an ATV. Gabriel lets out a breath and blinks blood from his eye. As long as they don’t hurt her.

A minute passes, then another. Fareeha’s sobbing calms just a little. Gabriel tries to brainstorm an escape plan but he’s too outnumbered and doesn’t have the resources to do much of anything. He’s only one man, after all. And he’s got a young girl to worry about too.

So the brainstorming trickles off, and there’s nothing left to shield him from the fact he’s been trying so hard to ignore.

_Jack and Ana are dead._

Worse for Fareeha, of course. She’s eight years old and just lost her only parent. Not that she’ll grow up alone—Gabriel will see to that if they get out of here—but he knows how much she loved her mother and nothing’s going to make that better, not for months or years.

Gabriel loved Ana too, because she was rock-steady when even he and Jack would start to panic but never cold, instead _expected_ compassion and sincerity from everyone she worked with. He was chewed out by her more than once and never resented it because she was right every time, he just didn’t want to face it himself.

But she’s gone now. And so is Jack.

Gabriel hugs Fareeha a little tighter to his chest. She’s thin, her back shuddering as she cries.

He met Jack twelve years ago on a base in Alabama and fell in love not right away but after a good several months, not that he could do anything about it at the time because the higher-ups wouldn’t be happy about a romantic relationship between two squadmates. And then they were deployed separately anyway so it was probably for the best, Gabriel thought, and he tried with middling success to get over the freckled farmboy with the goofy smile. And then they picked him for the soldier enhancement program and lo and behold, look who was waiting there in the barracks when he came in with duffel bag in hand.

But they were under scrutiny there, and then they were picked for Overwatch and that was an opportunity neither of them wanted to mess up. And then the Omnic Crisis ended and suddenly they both had promotions and responsibilities to this brand new organization and there was a chance there to do a lot of good, and it was too important to risk losing over rumors and accusations. _In a few years,_ Gabriel had always thought, _after we put in our time and prove ourselves, then we can give it a shot and no one can raise any questions about our priorities._

They’ll never get a shot now. Because Jack is dead.

Eventually Fareeha stops crying, only sniffles instead. Gabriel’s shirt collar above the vest is wet with tears but he hardly notices. He shouldn’t have waited so long. Who cares what everyone else would have thought? He was never happier than when he was with Jack—remembers the two of them sneaking out at nineteen to drink under the stars and giggle and whatever dumb shit they thought up while tipsy, and later in the enhancement program when the drugs left them near-paralyzed and they’d try to eat, food falling out of their useless fingers, laughing at each other even though it made them gasp for breath.

And there were the days on the front lines of the Omnic Crisis, every time they almost died and afterwards would end up sitting just a little closer; knees touching, hands on each other’s arms or backs as they returned to camp. A small, quiet reassurance that they were both still alive, something that was hard to believe in the bombed-out cities they drove through, with corpses and smashed robots scattered in every street. But Jack was there and Gabriel was never afraid, never despaired even in that broken landscape. Just needed one soft smile to chase away the ghosts that encroached on the edges of his vision, and then he was all right, he could keep on fighting.

What is he supposed to do now? He and Jack were partners, they went on every op together, a well-oiled machine. Who will ever know him like that again? Who can ever make him feel like that again? Like his future was a well of warm light on the horizon, like there was someplace he belonged, someone he belonged with?

He’s alone now. He and Fareeha are alone.

Fareeha sits up a little. Her face is red and puffy, her eyes still wet. “Uncle Gabe?” She sniffles. “I’m very sorry Uncle Jack died. I know he was your friend.”

Gabriel feels his nose burning, and he blinks a little, nodding.

“What are they going to do with us?” she asks.

He heaves a long sigh. “Well, they’ll probably trade us back to Overwatch.” _If they don’t decide it’s too much trouble and kill us instead._

“Okay.” She nods. “Will they take me away from you?”

He kisses her hair. “I’m not sure. I’m sorry.”

Fareeha curls up, leaning against him. “I don’t want them to.”

Gabriel doesn’t want that either but is in no position to negotiate—would probably just make it worse if he tried. The helplessness is frustrating. The aloneness is suffocating. Ana is gone. And Jack. Gone. They’re gone. At the end of the hangar wisps of foul-smelling smoke still drift from the destroyed security hub. He wonders distantly if their corpses are still in there, blackened, the flesh charred on their bones…

A crackle from Korhonen’s short-wave radio. He rolls his eyes and replies, then pushes himself off the ATV and approaches. Gabriel holds Fareeha a little tighter.

Korhonen stops. “All right, black man, what’s the passcode to the server room?”

Gabriel stares.

He knows the lockdown code, but that’s not the same as the one for the server room—he’s seen that keypad, it’s got letters as well as numbers. “I don’t know,” he blurts out.

Korhonen sighs and comes forward, grabbing Fareeha’s arm and dragging her upright. Gabriel starts to rise but one of the soldiers shoves a rifle muzzle in his face so he sinks back down. “Wait—“

Korhonen slaps Fareeha sharply.

Her head whips to the side and her hand flies to her cheek; then she looks up, stunned, silent, and wide-eyed. Uncomprehending. Korhonen turns back to Gabriel. “What is the code?”

“I don’t know.” Gabriel starts to climb to his feet, only to receive a rifle butt to the face. Bright pain, and he staggers as blood bursts into his mouth; he covers it with one hand. “I _don’t know._ Don’t hurt her, please.”

Korhonen raises his hand and slaps Fareeha again.

This time she lets out a startled _“ow,”_ and Gabriel spots the tears glimmering in her eyes. Panic runs like a fever in his head, high and hot. Jack’s not here to steady him. Ana’s not here to fix things. Instead it’s just him watching Fareeha get hurt and not doing a damn thing about it. “I don’t know,” he tries again. “I _don’t know!_ They just sent us here to keep an eye on the place, none of us were ever deployed here! I don’t know the code!”

Korhonen lets out an irritated sigh and jerks his head. One of the soldiers comes forward and grabs Fareeha by the hair, ignoring her screams as he throws her to the ground—

His head snaps back in a spray of blood and tissue. Gabriel is slow to react, the man’s death struggling to penetrate the panic; but then he sees Korhonen lifting his rifle and lunges forward, covering Fareeha’s body with his own.

Rifle shots thud into the back of his bulletproof vest. Fucker was going for a revenge kill. Gabriel stays balled up with his head ducked close to his chest. From this close, the shots hurt a hell of a lot thwacking into the vest. He’ll be bruised after this. If he makes it to after this.

Can’t see what causes it but the next second an explosion sends him skidding across the metal floor, and he turns his shoulder to protect Fareeha but his skull still bounces off the wall. He blacks out for what can’t be longer than a second, sluggishly pushes himself to his elbows, finds Fareeha in his smeared vision. “Hey.” The words are clumsy. “Go hide.”

She scampers off. Gabriel tries to look unconscious, squinting surreptitiously over his shoulder. Looks like he wasn’t the only one who got blown up. Friendly fire? Did Jack and Ana get the signal out to Overwatch after all? The Talon soldiers who weren’t knocked out in the blast are firing out of the hangar at the trees beyond. As Gabriel watches another takes a precision shot to the head and crumples. The rest seem to realize that standing in the open and firing blindly isn’t the best of ideas, and they duck behind leftover crates or ATVs for cover. Gabriel spots a couple of them pulling tac visors from their belts. Fuck. The heat filter will expose that sniper in a second flat. He scans, looking for options. A few feet away one of the soldiers is still lain out from the explosion, rousing slowly.

Gabriel stays low to the floor, darting over. First a hard chop to the guy’s throat, and he jerks and wheezes, groping at his neck. Gabriel unclips his rifle from the harness and retreats, hugging the wall, watchful for discovery; but everyone’s attention seems to be focused beyond the hangar. Korhonen has a tac visor on now, and he shouts something, flashing two fingers. Gabriel reaches the blown-open door they marched him through earlier and ducks inside it.

They’ll be on him as soon as he starts firing so he has to make it count. Korhonen is mostly hidden behind an ATV, so Gabriel chooses other targets, ones on whom he can get clear shots without taking too long to draw a bead. The decision is quick, four soldiers’ unprotected heads presenting themselves, and Gabriel fits the butt of the rifle to his shoulder.

He hopes Fareeha is somewhere where she doesn’t have to see this.

His body moves as if by automaticity, following the plan he laid out in his mind. His torso swivels, his eye catching the backs of skulls through the rifle sight, his finger squeezing the trigger. _One, two, three, four._ The shots aren’t perfect but he gets four bursts of blood and then flips back behind the wall as rifle fire comes his way. Time to go. He pushes himself upright, stumbles, still dazed from the explosion—

A _clink_ of metal. He shuts his eyes but doesn’t get his arms up in time before the flashbang goes off.

It knocks him off his feet again, his rifle clattering to the ground. His vision is washed-out in white as he rises to an elbow and tries to turn. They’ll be coming. They’ll be coming to kill him. Where’s his weapon? He gropes but it’s too late; there’s a figure with white-blonde hair in the doorway, and Gabriel can only squint and wait for the inevitable bullet—

The figure jerks, stumbles, and collapses. Gabriel drags himself away from the door and behind a corner, flattened against the wall. What happened? Through the blooms of white he sees holes in the back of Korhonen’s vest, smoking faintly. No normal weapon did that. Had to be plasma-loaded.

A booming voice calls out, broadcast over some kind of speaker system. Speaking Finnish, but Gabriel catches the word _armeija._

Military. Finnish military. He slumps against the wall, resisting the urge to curl up and press a hand to his eyes. Needs to stay alert just for a few more moments. But the next person through the door is in military uniform, pointing her rifle at him and shouting. He puts his hands up, tells her, “I’m Overwatch, I’m Overwatch.”

She flicks her wrist up to consult her comm, finds something there that makes her relax and lower her weapon, nodding at him. He lays his rifle down and lets out a long breath, wincing at the ache in his bruised back. Jack and Ana must have gotten the call out to Overwatch before they—before the hub blew up, and with no agents in the area local help was brought in.

“Uncle Gabe?”

“Fareeha,” he gasps, opening his arms, and she runs to him from down the corridor and hugs him tightly. That hurts too, but he doesn’t mind. “Did you get hurt?”

“Mm-mm.” She shakes her head into his shoulder. “But…they hit you.”

“It’s okay. I’ll be okay,” he murmurs. She’s safe, and Talon never got into the server room so Overwatch’s data is safe too. It’s just…

A shudder runs through him, and his eyes start to prick. Ana and Jack. It’s just Ana and Jack are gone. There’s a sob rising in his throat that he only half-manages to choke down.

Fareeha separates herself from him, troubled. “Are you crying, Uncle Gabe?”

“No.” He sniffles and shakes his head, scrubs at his eyes. Dried blood comes away on his fingers. Now isn’t the time to break down. “I’m just…glad you’re okay.”

Fareeha nods and looks down, thinking. Then she asks him, “What’s going to happen to me?”

Ana’s parents are still alive, Gabriel knows that much, although they must be old and he isn’t sure if they could take care of a child. “We’ll figure it out, I promise. I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.” He kisses her forehead. That’s right. He still has to function, to debrief with Overwatch, to get Fareeha settled with someone who can look after her. Must do all this despite the terrible hole in his center, the violent emptiness where Jack was just a couple of hours ago. _I found a little clearing with the loveliest wildflowers,_ Ana told them. _You two should pay it a visit._

He’ll never get a chance now. Never get a chance to go on a nice quiet walk somewhere, just the two of them, down the sunny country roads Jack favors or the boardwalks Gabriel spent so much time on as a teenager. Never get the chance to say, _Jack, fuck what everyone else will think, let’s just do it, let’s just go for it. I’ve loved you for years. I want to be with you._

He had the chance. Had a thousand, all passed up for a future that won’t be coming anymore. Jack is gone.

 _I fucked up._ Gabriel tips his head back against the wall, still holding Fareeha close. _I should’ve said something. I wasted so much time._

“Fareeha!”

She’s out of his arms, shouting _“Mama! Mama!”_ and Gabriel looks up and Ana is standing in the blasted-out doorway with a couple of leaves in her hair but not even a single singe mark.

She spares a smile for Gabriel before she kneels and hugs Fareeha, kissing her fiercely, talking to her in Arabic too fluid for Gabriel to understand. “How did you…” he mumbles, not that she can hear him over Fareeha’s sobbing.

Then Jack appears behind her.

For a moment Gabriel just sits there stupefied. He must be imagining it. Jack steps carefully around Ana and through the doorway. “Hey, Gabe.” He isn’t singed either; his pulse rifle is slung over his back. Plasma-loaded. Like the shots that took down Korhonen.

Gabriel struggles to his feet, wincing at the bruised muscle in his back. “You—you’re alive.”

“Yeah. Ana saw them bringing the missiles up, we figured we wouldn’t do much good if we were dead.” His face folds in worry, and he tries to smile to cover it up but doesn’t quite manage it. “You look like shit.” He cups Gabriel’s face gently, one thumb tracing just below the split in his cheek.

Gabriel embraces him.

Jack staggers a little with the force of it and then hugs him back with a chuckle. “Good to see you too.”

“I thought you were dead.” Gabriel grins, faintly hysterical. “Jesus, Jack.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Well, you did.” His heart still surges in his chest, but with an effort of will he stands back, measured, still grasping Jack’s arm. “But you’re alive, so I guess I’ll let it slide. You get hurt at all?”

“No, they didn’t spot us sneaking out. But how about you?” His fingertips brush Gabriel’s face again. “Looks like they got you pretty good.”

“Just some cuts and bruises. Back’s gonna be sore for a few days. But that’s all.” He unbuckles the vest and pulls it off over his head, grimacing.

When he tosses it down the worry is there again, Jack gazing at him with vivid blue eyes. “Did I do that? With the rockets?”

It takes Gabriel a second to put it together—that was the explosion in the hangar that tossed him into the wall when he was protecting Fareeha from Korhonen. He shakes his head. “No, it’s from that asshole shooting bullets into my back. The rockets actually helped. And thanks for killing him at the end there, he was about to put me down for good.”

“Christ,” Jack sighs. “This was supposed to be a vacation.”

Gabriel smiles. “Lucky us, huh?”

He feels like there’s more to be said, but all that’s coming to mind is _I thought you were dead, Jack, I didn’t know what I was gonna do. I was gutted. Empty. I felt like nothing mattered anymore._

And it would be kind of embarrassing to say any of that out loud, especially with Ana still crouched behind them. So he keeps his mouth shut, leaves his hand wrapped loosely around Jack’s arm. Solid and warm, and real. He’s alive. Everything’s going to be fine.

Fareeha sticks her head out of Ana’s tight hug and asks, “Can we go home now?”

——

The ride in the substrat is a few hours.

Jack’s still worried despite his best efforts to hide it, and he cracks open the med kit as soon as they reach altitude, pulling out a plastic-capped syringe. “Listen, I know you’re not big on this stuff but rifle shots at close range—“

“No. You know how much I hate all that nanite crap.” Gabriel holds a hand out. “Just give me the pills.”

Jack huffs out a little sigh but obeys, handing over two white tablets. Gabriel tosses his head back and dry-swallows them. “Hey, Ana.”

She looks over her shoulder from the seat ahead of them. “Yes?”

“Sorry I put Fareeha in danger.”

“Don’t apologize, Gabriel. I know you did everything you could. You’re only a man, after all.”

“He protected me!” Fareeha pipes up. “From the explosions!”

“I know he did, Fareeha. I saw him.” Ana leans over and kisses her.

It’s been a long day so Gabriel alternately listens to music and dozes against the window, and when the substrat lands and he starts awake he finds himself groping for the seat next to him, his hand landing on Jack’s leg. Whoops. He blinks, rubbing his mouth. Could have been a little more subtle about it. But yes, Jack is still there, hasn’t vanished into the air during the ride.

They’re separated for debriefing.

Gabriel slouches in an office chair across the table from three suits, one of whom is Lefevre, which means he’s probably in trouble because Lefevre doesn’t come down from his high horse to meet with the little people unless something serious has gone wrong. Sure enough, when Gabriel is finished telling his story Lefevre heaves a sigh and shifts in his seat and puts on a deep frown.

Gabriel doesn’t have time for this. “What? What’s the problem?”

“The problem.” Lefevre leans forward. “Is that the data in those servers could have compromised dozens of agents and hundreds of operations. And instead of staying to help erase the data and keep it from the enemy’s hands, you left.”

Gabriel stares. “I had to get Fareeha out.”

“One person’s life—“

“She’s eight.”

“—is nothing against _global security._ You should have stayed.”

He bites down on the grin, because he’d at least like to leave here without a demotion. “If I ever come to a decision like that again, I’ll consider it more carefully.”

Lefevre’s eyes narrow. “I need to know you can be professional, Reyes. Overwatch is in a position unprecedented in modern history. You stopped the omnics. The citizens of the world believe in you. They _trust_ you. Don’t throw that away by letting your emotions endanger people's lives. Talon didn’t get what they wanted this time, but next time we might not be so lucky.”

Gabriel taps the tabletop, his eyes flicking down. “Yeah, I got it,” he mutters.

“You can do a lot of good, Reyes. I know you can, I’ve seen it. But you have to use your head.” Lefevre watches him a moment more, then rises, letting out a long breath. “You’re dismissed.”

Gabriel pushes himself to his feet. He’s sore, his muscles complaining as he walks back to his quarters.

His room is quiet, everything just as he left it. A handful of reports in hardcopy on his desk next to the potted cactus. A printed photo on the coffee table of him, Ana, and Jack that he’s been meaning to frame for days. A pile of folded clothes sitting on the end of the bed. What time is it? He glances at the clock. Only five p.m., but it feels a lot later. Time zones.

Gabriel thinks of going to sleep but there’s something still pacing restless inside him, a hurt that demands to be soothed. Maybe it’s because he just got chewed out after going through the clusterfuck at the base, which is even more shit that he definitely doesn’t deserve.

Probably doesn’t.

Lefevre glowering in his head. _The data in those servers could have compromised dozens of agents and hundreds of operations._

Gabriel shakes himself, grimacing. Fareeha is eight years old. If he’d even suggested leaving her to her own devices, Ana would have ripped him a new one. The thought never even crossed his mind, if he’s honest with himself. And that means he’s compassionate, which is a good quality in a soldier.

_I need to know you can be professional._

The room feels empty, isolated, like a cell in solitary. Gabriel doesn’t want to be professional right now. So he makes a decision and steps into the bathroom for a quick shower before making a trip to the kitchens.

When he knocks on Jack’s door there’s a call of _“hang on a sec”_ and a moment later the door slides open to reveal Jack, blonde hair still darkened with water, hiking a pair of sweatpants up his hips. “Hey, what—oh, Gabe.”

Gabriel hoists the six-pack of beer he just stole. “Colts are playing in Baltimore.”

Jack lifts an eyebrow. “The Colts are my team. You hate the Colts.”

Gabriel knows it’s a weak excuse—he likes the Rams, who've already finished playing. But he grins to fortify it. “That’s why I’m rooting for Baltimore.”

Jack shakes his head, returning the grin. “Okay, come on in.”

He plucks a sweatshirt off the back of the couch and slings it on as he leads Gabriel inside. His room is in lowlight and sparsely decorated too, but there are posters on the wall—the Colts, the Bulldogs, a couple of rock bands. “So how’s Baltimore look this year?”

“Like shit.” Gabriel flops down on the couch and holds out a bottle of beer. “But the Colts kinda look like shit too.”

“Hey, watch what you say about my team.” Jack sits next to him, takes the beer and pops it open on the edge of the table.

Gabriel snorts. “What you gonna do about it? I kick your ass every time we fight.”

Jack motions at him with the neck of the bottle. “How do you know I haven’t picked up some new tricks since the last time?”

“You’ve had twelve years to pick up new tricks and I still kick your ass.” Gabriel pops his own bottle and takes a swig. The beer is shitty but Jack likes this brand for some reason so that’s the one he picked up.

“Jesus, has it really been twelve years?” Jack murmurs.

Gabriel leans forward and taps the remote. The TV screen blooms to life, figures in white mixing with ones in purple on a field of green. “Yeah. And it looks like we got at least a few more ahead of us. If we can stay alive that long, anyway.”

“Good.” Jack settles in, pressed up against Gabriel’s side, his feet propped up on the table. “Gives me time to learn some new moves. Then I’ll be the one kicking _your_ ass.”

“In your dreams, Morrison.” Gabriel makes a noise of disgust. “Oh, come on, my mother could have caught that!”

The last remark directed at the game, where one of the Baltimore receivers has just denied his team a third down conversion. Jack chuckles. “You’re right, the Ravens do look like shit this year.”

They continue to prove their inefficacy on defense, although the Colts have their share of fuckups—Jack lunging forward, flinging a hand as the insults burst out of him, riding on the Midwestern drawl he tries so hard to conceal. Gabriel hides a smile. He likes the accent, personally, though he hasn’t mentioned that.

By the end of the second quarter the score is twenty-seven to six Colts. Gabriel gets up during halftime to go take a piss but then comes right back and leans up against Jack again, popping open another bottle. They listen to the blather of the talking heads in comfortable silence, sipping at their beers; Gabriel does let out a vicious curse when the highlight reel shows the Rams’ shutout loss in San Francisco earlier, which makes Jack laugh and pat Gabriel’s knee in sympathy.

The third quarter sees the Colts scoring fourteen unanswered points. He watches without much interest anymore, instead lets the game blur into spots of color that flow through and around each other, the stream of play-calling bubbling past in a sedate murmur. All of it serving to wash the events of the day from his head. The security hub explosion, Fareeha’s small, frightened noise into his shoulder, the bullets he barely managed to block thudding into his back.

Everything’s fine. Fareeha’s alive. And so is Ana. And Jack, sitting right there beside him. Through the fabric of the sweatshirt he radiates heat.

Gabriel finds himself drifting off. It’s very nice. There’s nowhere else he’d rather fall asleep.

When he wakes, the coaches are walking out onto the field to congratulate each other and someone is shaking his leg. “Hey, Gabe.”

Gabriel grunts and rubs his eyes. “Sorry.”

“Ah, I don’t mind watching my team win.”

Gabriel cracks a smile and tries to muster the will to stand. It’s hard. Jack’s body is so _warm_ squashed up against his own; and his hand, too, where he’s left it resting on Gabriel’s leg.

But it’s getting late so he heaves himself to his feet and stretches, letting out an enormous yawn. Jack rises too, tugging absently at the sweatshirt zipper.

Long fucking day. Gabriel shuffles out from behind the couch. “Hey, Jack.”

“Yeah?”

His gaze sticks magnetic to the floor. “I’m really glad you’re not dead. When I thought you were I didn’t—“ _I didn’t know what I was gonna do._ He sighs. “It just sucked, a lot. So I’m glad you made it.”

Jack’s face breaks open a little, and he smiles softly. “Yeah, same goes for you.”

Then Gabriel goes to leave but there’s a “Hey, Gabe, if you want—“

He turns.

Jack seems sort of caught off-guard by his own words but he composes himself, jams his hands in his pockets. “I mean—if you’re that tired, you could just crash here.”

Hardly much of a difference. Gabriel’s quarters are a thirty-second walk away. That’s not why Jack’s offering. His shoulders are hunched slightly, the sweatshirt hanging open. His chest and stomach are covered in fine, dark blonde hair.

 _I need to know you can be professional, Reyes._ Lefevre’s voice. And then his own anguished thoughts from earlier. _Let’s just do it, Jack. Fuck what everyone else will think._

_The citizens of the world believe in you. They trust you. Don’t throw that away by letting your emotions endanger people's lives._

Jack gazes at Gabriel, his eyes glinting lightning-blue in the dimly lit room. To the left an announcer rambles on about the results of the game.

 _They_ _trust_ _you._

“I should head back,” Gabriel answers.

Jack shifts, nods, folds his arms. “Okay.” He offers Gabriel a smile. “See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, tomorrow.”

Gabriel turns to go, leaving Jack alone in his room. The door slides smoothly shut behind him.


End file.
